


a rough round

by eggboyksoo



Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: 99 line best bros, M/M, Rivals to Lovers, Underground Fighting Ring, a thigh headlock is involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25257391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggboyksoo/pseuds/eggboyksoo
Summary: Every time Lucas and RJ meet in the ring, it ends with Lucas between RJ's thighs.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 36
Kudos: 148





	a rough round

**Author's Note:**

> i am still struggling through some major writer's block/burnout, but i would like to thank lucas and his boxing lessons + reload renjun for inspiring this fic! it didn't go the way i expected it to, but i'm glad that this is done, and i hope you guys enjoy it! special thanks to d for beta reading, as always <3
> 
> (disclaimer: i did try to do some research in order to write this, but i'm sure a lot of this isn't accurate. please humour me and my artistic license!)

_1! 2! 3!_

Lucas can hear the referee count, but it’s like his head is underwater. He knows he’s trying to move his legs and push off the ground, but he’s too top-heavy and his legs are too long to give him any proper purchase against the canvas. Every time he gets some good momentum, the thighs around his neck constrict a little tighter. The rules for these fights are flimsy, especially when the people who run this are more interested in a good show rather than safety. It’s a clearly illegal move, his head being locked between his opponent’s thighs, but getting loud about it would be a waste of energy, and a possible threat to his windpipe.

_7! 8! 9…_

The roar of the crowd and the ringing of the bell is drowned out by the pulse still thundering in Lucas’s ears. The unpleasant harmony is a fitting soundtrack for his first official loss. Lucas takes one shuddering breath, and then another, accepting the loss of his perfect win record; as the realisation settles, the thighs around his neck start to loosen.

He snaps back into full awareness of his body, everything now too loud, too much, too uncomfortable. He’s only been down on the canvas for half a minute at most, but the adrenaline that had kept Lucas in the ring more rounds than expected is finally subsiding.

Lucas’s hand is spread over RJ’s left thigh. He hadn’t realised he’d reached up to try to yank RJ off of him. Lucas can still feel the muscle underneath. He moves his hand away, embarrassed. Red marks dot the pale skin, showing where Lucas’s fingers had dug in in desperation.

It’s only when Lucas attempts to push himself off the canvas does he realise that it’s not just exhaustion that keeps him pinned to the mat—it’s the bulk of RJ’s weight, his opponent having ended their fight by deciding to sit on him. He tries to move himself upright, for a clearer view of what he’s gotten himself into, when RJ finally moves his legs away. Lucas’s upper body jerks forward, and he swears he sees RJ laugh just before his team gets to him. They pull RJ off of him, and bring him over to the referee, who lifts his arm in the air.

“Let’s give it up for our undisputed champion, RJ!”

Now that he no longer has to think about tactics and potential movesets, Lucas takes in his opponent from the canvas.

RJ’s small, wiry, lean, large eyes in a small face, streaks of purple in his hair that reminds Lucas of taro. His anti-eyebrow piercing looks strangely delicate, and the smirk on his face is smug and promises trouble. He looks nothing and everything like what Lucas envisioned an underground fighter to look like. The crowd love him, and he turns slowly, arm raised, letting everyone get a good look at him, before his team flanks him once again, and he makes his way out of the ring.

A guy who enjoys the attention, but not necessarily the spotlight. Interesting.

“Dude, are you okay?”

Lucas blinks, and Mark’s face is almost inches away, eyes wide with concern. Lucas waves him off. “I’m exhausted, not like, asphyxiated, or anything,” he says.

“I can’t believe that thigh move was legal!” Mark’s eyes lower, probably assessing the state of his neck. “Well, it wasn’t, but I can’t believe the referee was just, like, okay with it—”

“Back off for a second, Mark, we have to get him up.” Dejun’s face scrunches up in a smile, a wordless job well done, as he reaches out for Mark’s shoulder.

“Oh! Oh, of course. Sorry. Take my hand.”

Lucas rises slowly, one hand in Mark’s, the other in Dejun’s. His head swims. Just before he stumbles, however, an arm wraps around his waist, steadying him. He smells Hendery’s cologne before he sees him, his friend reaching up to ruffle Lucas’s (sweaty) hair. “Good fight today,” he says, cheery, like Lucas hasn’t just gotten his ass kicked. “Incredible footage, too. I had such a blast filming that! That RJ guy is a fucking beast.”

“Of course he’s a fucking beast, half of his moveset is illegal. How do you even prepare for that kind of shit?” Mark says. Lucas squeezes his hand.

Mark’s been at all of Lucas’s matches—both the legal and illegal ones. He’d learnt the rules of wrestling after Lucas had joined so he’d know what was safe and what wasn’t. Dejun’s his official coach now, but Mark used to sit with Lucas for hours after school, discussing strategy and tactics. Mark Lee had been an unofficial moveset database for their school district’s wrestlers. Lucas knows he already has RJ’s moves filed in his head, ready to discuss over milkshakes and burgers, one-on-one without Dejun to give him a fresh perspective. But Lucas’s underground debut hasn’t been easy for him; he’s unable to miss a fight, but he struggles with the blatant disregard for rules and safety.

They all know how Mark feels about the circuit; he doesn’t approve, but it’s not going to stop him from showing up, keeping an eye out, making sure he helps equip Lucas with the information needed to keep him a contender. Considering his neck still feels tender—and he’d been caught off-guard by the lack of disapproval by the referee and the crowd as he’d been pinned to the floor—Lucas thinks Mark’s allowed to be a little shitty.

“Well, now you’ve fought RJ, you’re in a better position to defeat him next time,” Dejun says, pulling at the boundary ropes to help Lucas through. “We know what to expect from him now. He’s not this mysterious figure anymore. I know you’ve already got strategies swimming in that huge head of yours, Mark.”

Mark’s quiet as he ducks under the rope, but he sighs. “Yeah,” he admits, almost grudgingly. “You noticed his stance too, right?”

Lucas and his friends-slash-team make their way towards the locker room all linked together. Dejun and Mark talk strategy, pointing out the things that they’d noticed that Lucas hadn’t in the haze of the fight. Hendery cheerfully adds commentary and asks Lucas questions that take stock of any possible injuries. Even when they arrive at the front of the locker rooms, they don’t let go; Lucas is grateful for that, because he still needs time to get his bearings. He chips in on the strategy talks, carefully flexes his legs and arms and moves around, testing what is aching because of exhaustion and what might be an injury. There’s no sober mood, or disappointment. They approach Lucas’s first loss much like his many victories.

They hold onto him for as long as he needs it, and once Hendery is satisfied he doesn’t have a concussion, and Dejun and Mark get lost in their own discussion, Lucas lets go and makes his way towards the locker room.

“You sure you’re okay, Xuxi?” Mark asks.

“I’m fine, really,” Lucas says with a smile. “Just a little tired.”

“Yell if you fall in the shower,” Hendery says, patting his shoulder. “I’ll come rescue you.”

“You’re too much.”

“Love you too!”

Lucas still feels a little wobbly, but he’s able to keep himself upright as he walks into the locker room. It’s humid in there, making the promise of a hot shower all the more tempting, but it doesn’t register that someone else is using them until he grabs his shit and sees RJ at the sink, dressed in a flannel shirt and trackpants, bent over, towel drying his hair.

RJ only sees him once he’s upright again, eyes widening slightly as he notices Lucas in the mirror. Lucas clears his throat, unsure of what to say or do—he didn’t mean to stare, he’s just tired and a little taken aback!—when RJ smiles, tentative, and says, “Hello.”

It is hard to reconcile this person with the one from ten minutes ago, expression almost feral as he lifted himself upwards and wrapped his thighs around Lucas’s neck. He looks timid, almost, shy. His voice doesn’t bely any of the aggression he’d had in the ring. It’s only when RJ looks down, clearly embarrassed, that Lucas shakes his head quickly, and replies. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” Renjun’s eyes shift downwards slightly. He’s looking at Lucas’s neck. “Are you alright?”

“Oh! Yeah, totally. I mean—it’s a little tender, but it’s totally fine. I don’t think it’ll like, bruise, or anything.” Oh God, he hopes not. He’s in for a few uncomfortable conversations otherwise.

“Good,” RJ says. His shoulders relax. “You fought well today. Really.”

Lucas snorts. “Thank you for being gracious, but I’ve never been beaten this quickly. If anything, I should be congratulating you on a job well done.”

RJ’s eyebrows rise. “Most losers aren’t so gracious.”

“Eh. May the best man win, right?” Lucas won’t get the winners bonus, but the money’s still good regardless. He’s not going to complain.

RJ bites at his lip. He’s trying to hide a smile, Lucas realises. He shouldn’t find his opponent—the guy who had effectively tried to strangle him for entertainment— _endearing_ , but he can’t help it. This is cute. “Thanks,” he says. Lucas swears RJ’s cheeks, already pink from the humidity of the locker room, redden further.

Unsure of what to say, and not sure if he’s able to speak without cooing, Lucas nods, and begins his walk towards the shower.

“Wait,” RJ says, calling out. “Uh, I—Where do you train?”

“Oh! Uh. At Kun’s gym. Vision. Have you heard of it?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course! I’m at Heroes. With Ten. So…”

“Not too far apart.” Kun can’t stand Ten; their gyms are about two blocks apart and they’re always egging each other on. But even Lucas, still a novice in all things underground fighting, knows of Ten’s reputation for training stellar fighters. It makes sense that RJ would be one of his, too.

Lucas doesn’t know what to say after that, puzzled as to why RJ even cares, but he’s barely turned to look over his shoulder before RJ speaks again. “This might be a little forward, but are you like. Free sometime next week?”

Lucas frowns. “For a training session?” God, if RJ allows that, Dejun would _die_. Mark will probably sit hidden in the shadows watching, but the extra time with RJ would be so good to help figure out how he fights, how to beat him—

“No,” RJ says. “I was sort of hoping you were free for like. Dinner, or something.”

Lucas blinks. He takes a deep breath, and then blinks again. “Sorry, hang on. Are you asking me out?”

“I mean—yeah.” RJ runs a hand through his damp hair, blonde and purple stands sticking to his forehead. “You can say no! I get it’s a weird situation, like. It might be to the blow to the ego, but it’s just—you’re kinda hot.”

Lucas wheezes. “Well,” he starts.

“Sorry, I just—”

“Does Thursday night work for you?” Lucas scrambles through his gym bag, looking for his phone. “I can save it into my Google Calendar. And maybe get your number? Do you normally go by RJ?”

“Oh, no. Just on the circuit. My name’s Renjun.”

“Sweet.”

Lucas hands his cracked phone over to Renjun, his name already put into a new contact page. Renjun stares at the phone, then looks up at Lucas, then back down at the phone again. He finally takes it, quickly putting in his number, before giving it back. Lucas shoots him a text, a simple _“Hi :)”_ , before he forgets, because he _will_ , and he smiles at Renjun. “Are you gonna pick me up? I can send you my address later.”

“Great,” Renjun says. He looks like he almost can’t believe his luck. Neither can Lucas, if he’s being honest. “Well, I’ll see you on Thursday?”

“See you on Thursday,” Lucas replies.

Lucas spends most of his shower wondering what the fuck he’s going to tell his friends when he leaves the locker room, potential date outfits, and Renjun’s smile as he turned back around.

🥊

Lucas and RJ meet in the ring four months after their first match.

RJ remains Lucas’s only loss, and RJ remains the uncontested champion of the circuit, continuously taking his competitors off-guard with his moves. Their rematch has been anticipated for weeks, with a large crowd coming to spectate, interested in what to make of it.

When Renjun steps into the ring, Lucas hears the crowd gasp, taking in the bruises on his torso, his thighs, and the hickeys littered over his neck and collarbone. Lucas is just as bruised up, but the purple and blues of the bruises are more of a stark difference against Renjun’s skin.

“You can do this,” Dejun says solemly, before he heads out into the middle of the ring. “You know him like the back of your hand.”

Hendery merely waves, holding up his phone, ready to film. Mark isn’t present ringside; he’s standing just a little bit away, talking to Donghyuck, a member of Renjun’s team, wrinkling his nose as Donghyuck drapes an arm over him. They’ll watch the match away from everyone else, trying to get a better perspective.

Here’s the thing: Lucas wants to _win_. It doesn’t matter that Renjun had woken up in his bed this morning and proceeded to make him a “breakfast of champions”, when they remembered they weren’t allowed to be getting frisky before a fight. It doesn’t matter that their teams have traded secrets and tactics to make their fighters better. Perhaps it’s strange, wanting to best your boyfriend in a fight, but he’s fought and lost to Renjun so many times in training he just wants a single, tangible win. He already knows Renjun’s a better fighter, but, well. He has some pride.

“Shake hands,” the referee says, and they both approach the centre of the ring, staring each other down. The sparkly-eyed, sleepy look Lucas had seen in Renjun’s eyes this morning has been replaced by a smug smirk. It’s the look of a champion. Lucas struggles with acknowledging it as being sexy, but also wanting to prove him wrong. He holds out his hand. Renjun pulls him close.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing you between my thighs again,” Renjun says.

The referee pulls them apart, thinking he’s stopping some sort of fight. He’s not, but he’s definitely stopped some sort of altercation, as Lucas grudgingly makes his way back to his corner.

“I don’t like that look, Lucas,” Dejun says, voice sharp.

Hendery’s already laughing. “This is going to be the best match _ever_ ,” he says. “When they start making out halfway through—”

“You are _not_ going to throw in the towel because you find your boyfriend scary-hot!”

Lucas shrugs. Across the ring, Renjun is smirking. He knows just as well as Lucas that this match has already been decided. “I think I can deal with 34-2.”

**Author's Note:**

> :)
> 
> any and all feedback is appreciated!
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/eggboyksoo)  
> [cc](http://curiouscat.me/eggboyksoo)


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